Sleep Alone
by misenoma
Summary: A short idea of what Emma and Killian's return from the underworld will entail. The first night in their new home couldn't be further from how they imagined.
1. Home

The hardest thing to face weren't the bruises on his face, or the dark circles beneath his eyes, or the way he cried out in the night. The hardest thing to face was the silence. Not only was it completely alien, a stark contrast to his usual babbling self, it was complete. It surrounded them, clouding his eyes and stifling his movements. It filled the space between them.

It had started the night they had returned from that place.

She led him up the stairs to the master bedroom, their room, in their house. It felt like anything but home. She guided him to the edge of the bed and as she changed he stared down at his hands in his lap, picking beneath his nails with his hook, unblinking. In her pajamas she crouched down in front of him and tried to catch his eye, he blinked away a tear and his eyes darted away from her gaze.

She sighed and reached up to his shirt, him flinching slightly as she began to unfasten the buttons. His chest was a myriad of bruises and she took care to be a gentle as she could. She moved to his left arm and started to slowly unbuckle the brace that encased it. Usually he would pull away, hide his defect from her, deal with it himself, but he sat still, silently, staring ahead as she continued with her gentle ministrations. She pulled the brace off slowly, watching his face carefully for any signs of discomfort. A silent tear slid down his cheek. She placed the thin comforter around him and reached down to slip off his boots, reaching up then to unbutton his jeans. Only then did his eyes catch hers. A break in his reverie. But where before there would have been a hint of mischief in his eyes, now there was only fear.

"I'll do it," he said, gripping her wrist with his good hand. He looked away and she stood, sighing as she fetched him some loose flannel pants from the drawer. She edged around the other side of the bed and placed them by his side before climbing on top of the covers behind him, the void between them seeming to stretch for miles. She sagged against the headboard and let the realities of the previous days truly hit her. She was exhausted. She allowed her eyes to slip closed until she felt the bed shift behind her, opening them to see Killian moving towards the bathroom. She watched his back retreat, trousers slung low on his too thin hips, and heard the bathroom door lock click as he closed the door behind him.

Then she allowed herself to cry. She shuddered with silent sobs as she climbed beneath the blankets alone in the cold bed that was supposed to be theirs, a symbol of their love and their unity. She cried for her love, the broken man, and she cried for herself as she listened to the anguished sobs, mirroring hers that came from behind a locked door. Behind a closed wall. Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Cold Bed

Hi all. Thanks for the positive feedback. I promise you the happiest of endings... Eventually! These guys have so much to work through!

She wakes with a start. The bed is empty. The room is silent. For a moment she forgets, she despairs in the loss of him and his absence but in a rush of remembrance her heart skips a beat and she peels back the covers, bare feet padding towards the bathroom.

She presses down on the handle, the lock resisting her. She listens for any sign of him. There is only silence. She knocks quietly and hears a scuffle as he starts awake, inches away, shielded by the wood.

"Killian?.." She pleads softly, unsure of what to say. He reaches up, and the lock clicks open. She takes it for what it is, an invitation.

She opens the door, her heart chilled by the sight of him. He sits with his back to the side of the bath, his face blotchy and his eyes puffy, he avoids her gaze, his breathing heavy. She kneels down before him reaching to take his hand in hers. He flinches away.

"Killian." She pleads again, this time more insistent and reaches for his hand again. This time he does not resist and she takes his too cold fingers in her own. She's probably holding them too tightly. She doesn't care. It's all that's holding her together.

"Come to bed," she whispers, her thumb rubbing small circles across the back of his palm. "Please Killian," she tries as she hears his breath catch in his throat, his eyes suddenly fixating on her own. The haunted look behind them breaks her heart but her gaze does not falter, she feels as if she is staring into his soul.

Suddenly his shoulders fall, the tenseness rolling from his muscles as he finally grips her hand back. He is shaking.

"Bed," he whispers with a small nod, eyes darting away from hers once again. She releases a breath she didn't realise she was holding and stands, leaning down to wrap an arm tentatively under his, pulling him to his feet. He sways, the shaking reaching his knees, his body is far too cold against hers.

Their journey back to the bed is painfully slow, his breath hitching in his chest as the movement pulls against his bruised ribs. He relishes the pain while each gasp breaks her heart anew. Finally they are beside the bed, mirroring their ritual earlier in the night when she had undressed him, but this time he sinks down slowly of his own accord, pulling her with him.

She lies down gently beside him, reaching over to pull the blankets over them as he rests his head against her breast, his breathing shallow and his fingers clasped almost painfully to her arm and thigh as he pulls them around him. She can feel him tense, his whole body shaking with the strain of trying to hold it together. She wishes he would just let go. She should be careful what she wishes for.

"You should have left me there." He whispers.


End file.
